Truce
by FifiDoll
Summary: Set after the Rachel Berry House Party. Kurt gets upset and drinks too much before wandering the streets of Lima and ending up in the care of his former bully.


**Sequel to my Kurtofsky fic Alone, but this can be read as a stand alone.**

**Truce**

"_Okay!" Kurt clapped, feigning amusement. "I think we've seen enough!"_

But Rachel and Blaine took their time ending the kiss, and it drove Kurt _insane_. The others were so drunk they just cheered, forgetting that Blaine was there with _Kurt_ and that he was _gay_. Pulling out of the kiss, Blaine and Rachel giggled before returning to their separate places. The game continued, but Kurt escaped easily. Upstairs, he tried to catch his breath and calm down. Kurt tried to forget how _painful_ it was to watch Rachel Berry kiss his friend. The guy he liked. His Blaine.

The house was so stifling, and Kurt needed to get away. He needed to stop feeling so much, too. As much as he didn't want a repeat of when April Rhodes went to McKinley, Kurt couldn't stop himself from drinking whatever he could find in the kitchen. Half-full cups of beer littered the counters and he drank each and every one, chugging until he couldn't breathe and a few drops that had missed his mouth littered his shirt.

Shouts from the basement emanated throughout the house and Kurt still felt trapped. He wasn't _jealous_ per say, just hurt that Rachel would – oh, to hell with it, Kurt was jealous. That kiss looked _breathtaking_ and it should have been his! He made a determined beeline for the door, his feet much heavier than they had been before.

Kurt stepped out onto the sidewalk, looking around in the moonlight for somewhere to go. He wasn't in a familiar neighborhood so he wasn't sure which direction to walk in. Randomly choosing one, Kurt stumbled down the sidewalk, the alcohol slowly taking effect and bringing the teenager to tears. The kiss kept replaying in his mind over and over again. It was too much. His eyesight blurred and the alcohol hit him like a sudden wave. He fell over onto the sidewalk, not even wincing when he scraped his chin on the hard concrete.

"What the fuck?"

Kurt didn't even turn to look at the person, he just grumbled to himself incoherently. "Hummel?" the voice asked.

It was definitely a male, but Kurt was too drunk to care. He didn't want to talk to anyone; he just needed to get away. Instinctively, he fought when whoever it was that found him. They dragged him up a driveway and into a strange house. The struggle proved easy to overcome for the guy, though, and Kurt soon found himself perched on a covered toilet seat, a wet rag wiping blood off of his chin. The world swam into focus and Kurt found himself peering up at none other than Dave Karofsky.

The jock reapplied the washcloth to Kurt's chin and he swatted it away. "Whatreyoudoin'?" Kurt slurred, swaying on the seat a little.

"I could ask you the same thing," Karofsky said, his voice defensive.

"Rachelsparty," Kurt tried explaining. He elaborated, but it was too slurred to understand.

Dave just held out a cup of water to Kurt and waited for the boy to take it. Kurt tried to look skeptical, but he was _so thirsty_. Kurt chugged the cup of water and held it out to Dave almost proudly. "What the hell were you thinking?" Karofsky asked rudely. "You could have been arrested for wandering around this drunk after curfew."

"What d'you care?" Kurt asked spitefully. "All you care about ismaking m'life hell. Gettin' arrested would be the cherryontop."

"I thought I hit you with my car," Dave shook his head. "Then we would have both been screwed."

"'…wish you had," Kurt groaned dramatically. "Tonight sucked. Gettin' hit by a car would've just made it better."

Karofsky could imagine a number of situations in which Kurt's statement would be true, but they all had to do with _him_, not Kurt. The kid's self-pity was infuriating, and Karofsky snapped. "I can't stand you sometimes, Hummel!" he shouted, throwing up his hands in frustration. Kurt flinched. "You act like your life is so _hard_ all the time and you don't realize how _easy_ you have it!"

"Y'don't needta yell at me," Kurt scowled. He stood slowly, swaying on the spot.

"When you're acting like a whiny bitch I'm sure as hell going to yell at you," Karofsky countered. "I'm sick of you playing the victim all the fucking time."

"Big words," Kurt teased.

Karofsky stormed out the door and down the stairs, thanking whatever saints were responsible for giving him the house to himself that night. Kurt followed hesitantly. Karofsky stood at the front door, holding it open. "If you're going to whine like a bitch, get out," he told Kurt simply.

Scowling, Kurt said, "Fine. 'm leavin'."

He descended the stairs slowly, his vision still blurry and unfocused from the alcohol. Kurt had an iron grip on the railing, but his feet still slipped down the stairs, heavy and difficult. Halfway down, he tripped and felt himself falling towards the unforgiving, expensive stone flooring at the landing.

It was against Karofsky's better judgment, but he caught Kurt. The kid had already fallen once that night, twice would just be mea. Not to mention, Dave didn't need to be cleaning up the kid's blood from his house. That could be the final straw; he'd get kicked out of school and lose any chance of a football scholarship. He didn't let go of Kurt; instead, he shoved the front door of the house closed with his foot before dragging Kurt to the living room. He set the boy down on the couch and left the room.

Karofsky returned moments later with another glass of water. He handed it to Kurt and asked, "What the hell did they do to make you get this drunk?"

He tried to make it sound like he was teasing Kurt, but there was more concern in his voice than he thought there would be. Thankfully Kurt was drunk and couldn't tell the difference. Kurt didn't answer; instead, tears began cascading down his cheeks. Karofsky grumbled, "Oh hell no," to himself. The _last_ thing he wanted to deal with was a crying boy. "Never mind," he told Kurt gruffly. "Just drink your damn water."

Kurt obeyed, the tears never stopping. He kept replaying the scene over and over in his head; it was like his brain was a broken record, stuck in the middle of that kiss. _His_ kiss that Rachel Berry had stolen from Blaine. Now Kurt understood a little better why Finn was so angry with Rachel. She didn't really think about how what she was doing could hurt others. That would make her a wonderful star, but it made for a terrible friend.

Karofsky pulled out some video game system that was underneath the big screen TV in the living room and started playing football. Kurt didn't even complain about it, he just curled up on the couch and drank his glass of water. The only acknowledgement Karofsky ever made of Kurt's presence was when he'd ask Kurt if he needed a refill. It was a strange silence that neither broke.

When Kurt's blood alcohol level reached closer to sobriety, though, he finally spoke up. "I'm going to go now," he said softly.

Karofsky paused his video game and turned to Kurt, "Are you sure? You were drunker than a fucking housewife when I found you."

Kurt scowled and stood, the confusing dizziness now replaced with the beginnings of a terrible headache. "Bathroom?" Kurt asked.

"Down the hall," Karofsky said curtly.

Kurt meandered away, the sounds of football growing quieter and quieter. When he locked the door behind him, Kurt took in a deep breath. There was no way Karofsky had just taken care of him. _No way._ Looking up into the mirror, Kurt was reminded of his past. His eyes were sunken and emotionless, his cheeks streaked with tears. His shirt was wrinkled and…_was that a scrape on his chin!_ Panicking, Kurt looked up and touched the newly formed scabs lightly. Yep, he'd definitely scraped his chin. Maybe he had been worse than he thought?

Kurt did his business and left the bathroom slowly. He felt like shit, quite honestly, and just wanted to curl up in a ball and pass out. Without a word, Kurt made his way to the front door. "How are you getting home, Hummel?" Karofsky challenged, not looking up from his video game.

"I'll just walk back to Rachel's," Kurt replied indignantly.

Karofsky paused his game then. He looked over at Kurt with a raised eyebrow and asked, "Why the hell would you go back somewhere that made you so miserable you wished I had _hit you with my truck_?"

Kurt sighed. Karofsky had a point. "They're probably worried about me," he said lamely.

"They're probably all passed out," Karofsky countered. "You glee club kids can't hold your alcohol. Don't kid yourself."

Kurt looked defensive and reached for the doorknob. "If you're going to insult us, I'm leaving," he said. "I don't need to hear this. My night has sucked enough."

They both stood in silence. Kurt wished Karofsky would ask him to talk about things; at least then the guy would seem a little human, and Kurt could get his problems off his chest. All the usual people he would complain to were a part of the problem this time, leaving Kurt to bottle up his problems. That _never_ ended well. "I'll take you home," Karofsky said firmly, shutting off the TV and avoiding Kurt's eyes at all costs.

They walked out to Karofsky's red Dodge Ram. Kurt got in the passenger's seat and sat as far away from Karofsky as possible. He leaned his head against the window; it was refreshingly cold and helped soothe the dull ache forming in his temple. Karofsky started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

They only managed to get two blocks away from Karofsky's house before Kurt burst. "Blaine kissed Rachel! I know it was just a stupid game but _he kissed her_!" Kurt wailed.

Karofsky wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that statement. To him, a guy kissing a girl was normal, and in most cases it was. Unless Blaine was gay…was Blaine the pretty prep school guy Kurt always had with him? Karofsky assumed this was true and waited for Kurt to say more. It didn't take long. "I mean, sure, spin the bottle is just a game but the way they kissed! It lasted longer than everyone else's and _it's just not fair!_" he cried. "Rachel is always stealing guys from me…"

Kurt pouted and stared out the window wistfully. Karofsky didn't even want to _know_ who else Rachel Berry had apparently "stolen" from Kurt. The thought made him sick – were there really more freaks like himself at McKinley, hiding for fear of the punishment Kurt was subjected to daily? "Well, spin the bottle is where you guys fucked up," Karofsky said. It was all he could think of to say. "That game is like, for middle schoolers or some shit."

"It was Rachel's idea," Kurt shot defensively.

"You said everyone was drinking at the party?" Karofsky asked. Kurt nodded, and he continued. "People do stupid shit when they're drunk. A lot of times they don't mean it."

"What would you know?" Kurt asked roughly, scrutinizing eyes focusing in on him.

Shrugging, he just replied, "I've gone to parties before."

Kurt just rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. They drove in silence for a few blocks before he broke the silence again. "Does the guy like you?" Karofsky asked.

"I don't know. I think so. That's kind of what he said on Valentine's day," Kurt trailed off.

Karofsky didn't want details, just a simple yes or no answer. It upset him, though, that someone else had the balls to admit feelings to Kurt. The thought made his stomach churn. They were approaching Kurt's house now. "He may have fucked up but I bet you're still going to give him another chance," Karofsky said bitterly. "And he's a total asshole if he doesn't thank you for that like, every day."

He stared out over the steering wheel, eyes focused on the fire hydrant head. Kurt's stare was heavy and calculating and it scared the shit out of him. They sat like that for a moment before Kurt just sighed and said, "Thanks."

Karofsky didn't move or even acknowledge Kurt's thank you. The seconds dragged on forever, and with a slam of the truck door, Karofsky knew he'd blown it _again_. He should have just been polite for once.

Mentally kicking himself, he drove home, the sunrise beginning to show in the distance. The whole way home, he thought about the evening. Kurt Hummel had showed up out of nowhere, drunk out of his mind, on his doorstep. He could have beaten the shit out of the kid, or embarrassed him beyond belief, but instead he nursed him back to sobriety. The evening had done _nothing_ to aid in Karofsky's desperate attempt to forget anything related to Kurt Hummel, and it killed him.

He hated how he always felt like being nice to him when they were alone. After the championship game and that compliment from Kurt about his dancing skills, it was the least he could do, right? Even when he went to school two hours away, Kurt found a way into Karofsky's mind. That night, just like dozens before, Dave found himself trying to push Kurt out of his thoughts as he fell asleep.

Kurt wandered into his house quietly, trying not to wake his dad and Carole. He made his way down to the basement and tossed himself onto his bed, not even worried about his long-forgotten skin care regimen. He couldn't stop thinking about what Karofsky had said to him in the truck.

"_He may have fucked up but I bet you're still going to give him another chance. And he's a total asshole if he doesn't thank you for that like, every day."_

Kurt's brain kept going back to the locker room and that kiss. He had been so quick to shove Karofsky away (for a good reason – the guy made his life a living hell) but had he ever stopped to consider how he had made Karofsky feel? The guy went in for a second kiss and instead of turning his head or politely declining he pushed the guy away like he was a _disease_ or something.

Kurt hadn't gotten an apology from him, but sometimes actions spoke louder than words. Karofsky had taken care of him – washed his scrape, given him water, driven him home, _listened to his problems_. Not to mention, in retrospect, being lost in your own head hating yourself for being gay might have been just a little more of a problem than the guy you like kissing someone else. Maybe Karofsky had a _reason_ to be mad at Kurt. That didn't mean Kurt had no reason to be mad at Karofsky, though. The jock had stolen something very important to Kurt and nobody could just get away with taking someone's first kiss without at least a _little bit_ of resentment.

He was about to fall asleep to that mess of confusion, but his iPhone began ringing that familiar, usually uplifting melody. Now it was just annoying. Kurt answered, "Hello?"

"Where're you, dude?" Finn's slurred voice asked.

"I'm at home, Finn," Kurt replied, annoyed. "Go pass out somewhere. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"Mmkay," Finn said, his voice revealing a dopey smile on the other line. "Iwas worr'd."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt just hung up and fell asleep. He'd said it before, but he would say it again: Kurt Hummel was never going to drink again.


End file.
